


The Real Slayer

by Frechisia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Dark Shiro - Freeform, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frechisia/pseuds/Frechisia
Summary: Survival means to live, to stay alive. To feel alive is a whole different story, not one Shiro ever expected to be in.





	

"And here's Goliath's competitor, the one we all came for. CHAMPION!"

Shiro stepped out to the roar of the crowd. Some cheered, others booed, many shouted. It filled up the place, filled his veins with a feeling he only got in the ring. He was never sure if he liked it or not, it changes with his mindset that day. But today, he knew how he felt.

There's never quite a word for it. At least, not one he could find. A few came close to it. Ravenous, angry, hostile, insatiable.

Bloodthirsty.

He hated feeling like that. It wasn't him, it was the Galra. It was their conditioning, making him into a warrior, a weapon. And he wanted to fight it off so _badly_ , but without Matt to hold him steady, to give him a reason to be good, he was just a person fighting to survive. 

He hoped it was still about survival.

"Places at the center of the ring." He walked to the middle, assessing his opponent as he went. Like most of his competitors, he —well, by the looks of the thing, _it_ — was large; a good five feet taller than him. It had fangs protruding from its mouth, a sickly yellow bordering brown with saliva constantly spilling out. Its legs appeared to be more of an animals, similar to a wolf. It had no hands, in place of them were two solid metal hammers, and large sharp tail that flicked back and forth behind it.

Definitely one of the Galra's experiments. It wasn't the first time they pit one up against him as a test, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Champion…Die…" The voice was so deep and guttural that he almost didn't understand it, and was almost surprised. Most weren't lucky enough to come out of an experiment and still be able to speak, much less say more than one word. A lot already had trouble _breathing_.

"Not yet." The horn sounded, and he dodged to the side as a hammer came down on the spot where he was. It aimed for him again, but couldn't catch him. Like many fighters, they're big, but slow.

Naturally, if lasers didn't come out of it, the eyes were the weakspot. So that's what he went for. He climbed onto the narest pedestal, and when the monster tried to hit him, he jumped.

His hands grabbed onto the large mane of hair surrounding its head. It swung around in an attempt to get him off, but he had gotten stronger, and knew how to have tight grip. He sat on its shoulders and with kept ahold with one hand. The other reached back to get his sword.

 _This is gonna be one of the shorter fights._  Shiro pretended that it didn't make him feel a swell of disappointment. _I'm here to win, nothing else._ He raised the sword and swung it down into what would've been a very painful, if not fatal blow for the monster, if he had not dismissed one detail about it. The very long, sharp-edged tail.

It wrapped around his body and threw him straight to the ground. He got up quickly, ignoring the dull pain going through his body. The pain wasn't important. He had to find a place to hide, to plan because he wasn't going to win like this.

He picked up a rock about the size of his hand and threw it at Goliath. It hit its eye and it immediately reeled back, cradling its face and for a moment, not focusing on him. He took the chance and ran behind a pillar, and was eerily reminded of how he was in this situation before, hiding, waiting for a chance to fight back. The day he became Champion.

On a good day he wished he could forget it. On a bad day, he wished he could relive it.

A half-baked plan formed in his head. It wasn't a great one, but it'd have to do. He waited until the monster had his back to him, and acted. He ran and swung his sword, and with a squelch, the tail came off. The beast screamed, turning towards him.

"DIE!"

It charged, and he managed a slice in it's abdomen before slipping through it's legs. He ran behind a pillar, and swung at it. He put all his strength into his swings until it was teetering. Then he leaned against it and pushed as hard as he could.

 _Come on…. Just a little more..._  With a shout, the pillar tumbled down, landing right on the monster and crushing it.

He panted, and looked up to the a part of the audience where special guests sat. It had a window that was blast proof with adjustable tinting, but today they decided to have it clear as day. He could see where Haggar was sitting, hiding her face under her hood. He couldn't help but throw a triumphant smirk in her direction. Yet another of her experiments were defeated, by a "measley human" no less.

"Still undefeated, the victor—" The announcer stopped after seeing the look he recieved from Haggar. She held a device in her hand, and did something with it. He couldn't see from where he was, but knew it was going to be bad for him.

A roar sounded from the monster, and he took a couple steps back. Loud cracks came from it as it grew in size, bones breaking and rehealing to acommodate the change. Parts of it's skin began to split apart, revealing dark pink flesh underneath. It rose up on all fours, shaking the pillar off it's back, and growled.

It was faster than he expected. He assumed that it would get slower due to it's size, but all it seemed to do was increase it's speed.

And it's desire to kill him.

Goliath landed a hit before he could even see it, and Shiro was sent flying across the arena. He hit the ground hard, his sword a few feet away. If he stood any chance before, he barely had one now. But he has to stay alive. He's a survivor, he doesn't give up without a fight.

The problem was that fighting doesn't guarantee life.

One of it's hammers pressed down on his back, crushing him into the floor. He couldn't move, hell, he couldn't breathe, and if this keeps up, he's a goner. Shiro stretched his arm out for his sword, so close, but not quite there. _Come on._  His lungs were burning, and body was aching, and yet —  _yes_ — his fingers wrapped around the handle, and swung behind him blindly. There was a shout, and it released him. He tried to put some distance, but he didn't get to. It seemed to be done playing with hammers and decided to use it's mouth.

By clamping down on his arm.

He screamed, loudly. His whole arm from the elbow and up was stuck in it's jaws, and there was no way to describe the pain he was in. Blood painted it's teeth and the rest of his arm, and for once in a long time he felt _terrified_.

It lifted his head and swung him around, and he could feel it. His skin ripping, his bone breaking, the muscles being torn by sharp fangs. Oh god, what did he ever do to deserve this? Why can't it stop? He just wanted the pain to stop.

Shiro spotted his sword stuck in it's nose, and didn't hesitate. He pulled it out with his hand, and, with a deep breath, he chopped into his arm.

It hurt, it really did, but not anymore than what was already happening. So chopped again. And again. And again, until it was finally detatched, and he fell to the ground. He threw his sword to the side and took off his shirt, wrapping it around the ragged stump that was left. It was going to bleed anyway, but any drop he could save was worth it.

He watched as it chewed his arm, pieces of his own flesh stuck on it's face. He surveyed the area, a lot of covered with his blood, he even looked at his hands (hand, the other isn't there, why is he trying to move something that isn't _there_ ), which was red as well.

Something in him snapped. He felt it in his body, in his mind. Noticed it in the way he saw his blood and all he wanted to do was spill more. Noticed it in the way his thoughts became concerned with fighting rather than living. Because survivors want to live. But Shiro had it all wrong. He was never a survivor. He was a hunter. He was a killer. He was Champion. In the ring, he wanted more than just living. He wanted to see his opponents just like he was now, ripped apart, bleeding, broken.

He threw his head back and laughed. It echoed throughout the stadium, the crowd having gotten quiet at the sound. His eyes began to burn, body hurt, but it was the least of his concerns.

Shiro grabbed his sword and stood up on shaking legs. He turned his head and gave Haggar a bloody smile. She gave him one as well, the anticipation clear on her face. He turned back to the creature, who seemed to sense that something was off and whimpered as it moved backwards.

"Remember this. My name is Champion. I'm the one who slayed Goliath."


End file.
